


First Threads

by ElanyB



Series: The Foreseen Child [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Headcanon, I know where this is going but I'm easily distracted, Maybe - Freeform, More Adventure & less romance, Multi, tags liable to change!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElanyB/pseuds/ElanyB
Summary: First chapter in the first part of what I hope will be several parts of The Foreseen Child! This is set in 1563, nine years before the Calamity at Carteneau, and deals with the arrival in Limsa Lominsa of a young Auri girl called Elai Khatahdyn





	1. Chapter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter in the first part of what I hope will be several parts of The Foreseen Child! This is set in 1563, nine years before the Calamity at Carteneau, and deals with the arrival in Limsa Lominsa of a young Auri girl called Elai Khatahdyn

Chapter I  
….. Elai wasn't fond of any of the cities in Eorzea.

  
She wasn't over-fond of cities at all; even after so many years away from the steppe, she still believed folk should live in tents; that a ceremonial meeting hall was well and good but building homes of wood or – even worse – stone was just perverse. When she thought of beauty, she thought of vast expanses of grass and blue sky and sharp-peaked mountains that reached up into the blue.

Gridania's great trees were too numerous and oppressive, and the elementals that guarded the forest edged everything with a tension that left her weary.

  
Ul'dah was too tightly packed, too stone, too narrow-eyed with greed; it tried to shut out everything that didn't serve its purpose. Even the sand and the desert flowers and the white hot light of the noonday sun.

  
Limsa was too confusing, too loud. Too full of folk who didn't know which way they wanted to go.

  
But of the three, she preferred Limsa, for the wide open sea and the swell of the waves reminded her a little of the steppes …..

  
********

  
It was to Limsa Lominsa that Elai first came, on a ship across the Jade Sea. She was barely seventeen and barely knew why she’d left home and family to travel so far. Except that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life herding goats and bearing children. That was like to be her fate if she stayed on the steppe.

  
She considered herself no man’s fool despite her youth; she’d successfully navigated the hazards of Hingashi, after all, to find a ship to bring her to Eorzea and kept both the coin in her purse and her virtue intact. She’d even managed to increase her coin rather than spending it; her climbing skills proved so useful on the two month voyage across the Jade Sea that the ship’s captain refunded some of her passage and offered her a place in his crew.

  
Elai hadn’t accepted his offer. She still wasn’t certain what she wanted, but she knew that she didn’t want to be a sailor, any more than she wanted to be a goatherd. Although, as the Dancing Orchid left the port in Limsa, she did feel a sharp pang of longing for the steppe, as if the ship’s departure severed her last ties with her home. And she had cause, that night, to question her decision several more times.

  
The yellow-coated guards who patrolled Limsa didn’t take kindly to scruffy Auri brats curling up to sleep in the corner of a back street. She had to scramble fast to avoid them, losing her pack and her bedroll in the process, and then found herself lost in a warren of alleys and ginnels that all seemed to twist back on each other. Overhanging storeys and roofs made it hard to see the sky to orient herself. She was just looking for the means to scramble up onto one of the roofs when she was jumped by four burly ruffians armed with clubs.

  
Elai sighed then and shook her head.

  
Her adventures had gone very well – almost too well perhaps – up to that point, but the kami were ever capricious. It was the way of life, that matters would go ill without warning.

  
She paid little heed to notions such as pride and honour. Neither pride nor honour would protect her and her goats on the steppe; practicality and common sense were much more useful. She wouldn’t have hesitated to run away if fleeing had been an option, as she had fled earlier from the yellow-coated guards. But these men had taken her by surprise, and she was cornered at the end of an alley. She would have handed over her purse to them rather than risk a fight; purses were much more easily replaced than broken bones. But they had realised by then that she was female and had lost interest somewhat in her purse. They spread out in a circle around her, advancing slowly and laughing. One of them was already loosening the ties of his breeches as he reached for her.

  
Elai’s main weapon was a bow, but she’d lost that along with her pack a little earlier. And the men were too close for a bow to be useful in any case. She had some skill with daggers, though, and her tormentors paused when she pulled two knives from the hidden sheaths in her boots and dropped into a crouch.

  
“Now then, lass,” the first one said. “No need for that. We’re just looking for a little fun is all.”

  
Elai hissed at him, and he took a step backwards. Emboldened, she followed, shouting a war cry in her native tongue, a long ululation that seemed to rise up out of the alley and ripple in all directions. It hovered in the air for a moment or two, and she had the strangest impression that everything in the city stopped and turned in her direction, just for that brief interval in time.

  
She blinked and shook her head, tightening her grasp on her knives.

  
************

  
Brin was sitting with Wawalago on a jetty, talking about the best bait for Lominsan anchovy – Brin wasn’t much of a fisherman, not yet, but while he was in Limsa he planned to improve – when the most uncanny howl rose up on the night air and hovered around them like a ghostly echo.

  
“Llymlaen’s Grace,” Wawalago muttered, making the sign against ill-luck. “What in the Seven Hells was that?”

  
Brin surged to his feet and set off running in the direction of the noise. It still seemed to quiver in the air, drawing him towards it; as he ran, he pulled a knife from his belt. It wasn’t really a weapon, being meant for gutting fish, but Thancred had taught him enough tricks with a dagger that the knife would serve his purpose.

  
He rounded the corner of a narrow alley and saw several burly men a few feet away. Five … no, four of them, all armed with clubs. He couldn’t quite make out what they faced; some kind of horned creature, smaller, and wiry too, crouched down and ready to spring. He checked his run and slid sideways, into the darkness at the edge of the alley. If he could stay hidden, he could creep up on the demon – or whatever it was – and sink his blade between its ribs before it even knew he was there.

  
“What the swivin’ hell was that?” one of the men said, lifting up his club.

  
“It’s a void-sent,” another said. “That’s what it is. Look at them ‘orns and that tail. I ain’t putting my dick anywhere near that, Olaf.”

  
Brin froze in the shadows and listened hard.

  
“Scared it’ll get cursed and drop off?” the one called Olaf jeered. “She ain’t no demon. She’s one of them dragon-folk from over the sea, came in on that schooner from ‘Ingashi a few days ago. I been keepin my eyes on her. Erdwyss is after some exotic bits o’skirt for his latest customer. We’ll have our fun with her, and then we’ll truss her up and sell her to Erdwyss for a pocketful.”

  
Brin stepped back out into the alley. He wished he had his great axe, but it was more of an encumbrance than anything else when he was fishing, and he hadn't expected to need it. He hadn't expected to encounter anything more dangerous than an anchovy tonight. Ah well. Time to see how much he remembered of Thancred’s lessons.

  
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “I believe the lady isn’t eager to welcome your … advances.” As they whirled to face him, he made a show of paring his nails with the knife in a nonchalant fashion. “Judging by the daggers she's brandishing, a wise man would take himself off.”

  
“Go bugger yerself,” Olaf said.

  
“Now that's not nice,” Brin protested. “Nor wise.” He leaned backwards as Olaf swung at him and whistled in no little admiration as the girl – he was fairly sure she was a girl, now, despite the horns - lashed out with both her daggers at the brute nearest to her. She aimed for the backs of his knees and hamstrung him very neatly. Even Thancred couldn't have done it better. The man screeched and tumbled backwards into the mud.

  
Olaf turned away from Brin again. “Why you l'il ...”

  
Not one to miss an opening, Brin rapped him on the side of the head with his knife hilt. The big man went down surprisingly quickly and quietly, and Brin stepped over him to tackle the next thug. The horned girl ducked backwards as the fourth man tried an uppercut to her chin, but the blow whiffled through empty air. He had a longer reach and more brute strength, but she was clearly faster and much more agile. She also seemed to have a great deal more control of her temper; after she’d eluded the thug a couple more times, he began to hit out wildly in rage, and she was able to slip under his guard and slide a dagger between his ribs without any trouble at all. Brin was half-tempted to applaud. But the Admiral had banned brawling in the streets, and the Yellow Jackets would see the bodies first – not to mention the horns on his companion – and they would ask their questions a great deal later. If Thancred had to bust him out of a Lominsan gaol, the Sharlyan wouldn't be very happy.

  
Brin wiped his knife on his shirt and put it back in the sheath on his belt.

  
“Come on,” he said. “We better scarper. Smartish.”

  
She nodded and sheathed her own daggers. She had hidden pockets for them inside her boots. A nifty trick.

  
“Any good at climbing?” he asked. “The Yellow Jackets'll be here any second.”

  
“I can climb,” she replied. Her voice was soft, and her Common was smudged with an accent he didn't recognise. What had Olaf called her? Dragon-folk from Hingashi? Still, time to ponder on that later.

  
“Follow me,” he said, using the rope knotted around the nearest pillar – a not-unusual decoration in Limsa – as hand-holds and foot-holds to haul himself up. When he turned back to give her some help, he discovered she was already close behind. As she pulled herself onto the roof next to him, he was able to get a better look at her.

  
She was as small and skinny as he had thought; not much more than a kid really. Of course neither was he, although that wasn't the kind of thing he admitted aloud to anyone. Her colouring was unusual; pale skin and pale eyes, with rings around her pupils that seemed to glow silver in the moonlight. Her hair was pale too, like the mist that wreathed the harbour water sometimes. She wore it in long braids, with beads and gems and feathers woven in here and there. But the most startling were her dark, curved horns and the tracery of scales on her cheekbones. Dragon-folk indeed.

  
“You're staring,” she said. “It's rude.”

  
He felt himself blush.

  
“You're a bloodthirsty one,” he retaliated. “We could have tried to talk to them at least, don't you think?”

  
She shook her head. “They were already thinking with their cocks instead of their heads. They wouldn't have listened.”

  
His blush deepened, and he very much hoped she hadn't noticed. He was used to the forthright language of the dock-hands and sailors, but the whores were more likely to cuff him playfully on the chin and call him brat than accost him with bawdy invitations. And Thancred always spoke like a gentleman, despite the fact that he claimed to have been raised by the rogues' guild in Limsa.

  
The dragon-girl ducked her head as four Yellow Jackets ran by the next alley and widened her eyes at him. He put one finger to his lips, and she nodded. They lay quietly on the roof, waiting for the night to fall silent again. And once more she impressed him with her abilities. Most folk fidgeted after a while, breathed too heavy, shifted their weight around. The dragon-girl … well … if he hadn't been looking at her, he would have supposed himself alone. He began to wonder if she was Echo-blessed, like himself; she’d certainly demonstrated an almost preternatural ability to evade many of the blows launched at her during the fight just passed.

  
Brin watched her surreptitiously. She lay quite still, watching the alleys below, apparently unconcerned about their rooftop perch or the Yellow Jackets searching beneath them. If she did have the Echo … well … the sooner he introduced her to one of the Archons the better. But if she chose to stick around, he knew he wouldn’t be sorry about it. She was altogether fascinating, and he hadn’t even learned her name yet, nor where she came from.

  
************

  
Y’shtola set down her cup on one of the tables close to the balustrade and pulled out a chair. It was early morning still, and the eatery was quiet; she had her pick of places to sit so she chose one where she could relax and watch the sunlight on the water while she drank her coffee. Early mornings in Limsa were the best part of the day, before the port opened and the bustle started, when the only noise was the murmur of the cooks in the kitchens, the rattle of the masts on the moored ships below, and the occasional gull swooping by in search of breakfast. She sighed with pleasure as she took a sip of the rich, strong, milky coffee and leaned back in her chair.

  
“’Shtola! Hello! I thought I’d find you here. Are you busy? Can we have a word?”

  
She blinked and turned her head. Brin Greenwood, of course. She would have guessed from the puppy-like enthusiasm in his voice, if nothing else. He greeted every day like a grand adventure, which wasn’t necessarily un-endearing, but she would have preferred him to wait until she’d had her morning coffee. Nor was he alone and … Menphina’s Grace! An Au Ra? A Xaelan Au Ra, if she wasn’t mistaken. What was an Auri woman of the grasslands doing so far away from home?

  
Y’shtola sat up and put her cup back on the table.

  
“Good morning, Brin,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

  
“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry.” His words tumbled over themselves, all trying to escape his mouth at once. “This is Elai. She’s from Hingashi.”

  
The Auri girl frowned. “I’m from the steppe.”

  
“From the steppe via Hingashi,” Brin amended.

  
Y’shtola smiled, stood up and held out her hand in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Elai. We don’t get many visitors from the far east.”

  
The girl eyed Y’shtola’s hand with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, but then she reached out to touch it with her own. As they clasped hands, several things happened in quick succession.

  
Y’shtola felt a surge in aetheric energy so intense it felt painful. The Auri girl gasped, and her face twisted in a grimace. Her fingers slackened, and she slumped forwards, knocking the cup of coffee from the table. It tumbled to the wooden floor and smashed. Y’shtola caught the girl, stopping her from tumbling to the ground in similar fashion, and set her down in the empty chair.

  
“Shit,” Brin said. “Is she …?”

  
“She’s fine,” Y’shtola replied briskly. “Go and find someone to clear up this mess and bring us some more coffee.”

  
“But …”

  
“It was the Echo, Brin,” she muttered, not wanting to attract too much attention. “Or at least I think so. I can’t sense any sickness in her, and she’s not injured.” She glanced up at his worried face. “But I imagine you already suspected she had the Echo or else why did you bring her to me?”

  
He blushed and shrugged.

  
“More coffee,” she repeated gently, a smile tugging her mouth. “And if anyone asks, she's exhausted after her long journey and began to feel unwell.” He nodded, turned around, and headed inside.

  
Y’shtola sat down in another chair, next to Elai, and took a deep breath. She was almost certain that the Auri girl was experiencing the Echo's first fierce tumult. But that didn’t mean Y’shtola wasn’t concerned. It wasn't so much Elai's collapse that bothered her – swallowing down the first taste of the Echo was often difficult and frightening – but that the Auri girl was the fourth youngster in less than a year who'd shown signs of it. The Echo was thought to be very rare; in all of her years of study at the Studium, Y'shtola had encountered only one individual known to possess it. Its growing frequency now perturbed her. She and her fellow Archons had returned to Eorzea to assess the growing threat of the Garlean empire, but she was becoming more and more convinced that there were bigger threats than the Garleans just out of sight.

  
Elai stirred and muttered something, and Y'shtola refocused her attention on the girl.

  
“Welcome back,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  
“Who …?”

  
“Oh, I'm Y'shtola. Y'shtola Rhul. Brin brought you to meet me, if you remember?”

  
The girl licked her lips and swallowed. She was a tiny little thing really. Y'shtola had thought the Au Ra big, hulking creatures; the few that she'd met – all full-grown males – certainly were. But perhaps Elai was still very young. Which rather begged the question of what she was doing all by herself in Limsa Lominsa?

  
“I ...” Elai said. “What … what did you do to me?”

  
“Menphina bless you!” Y'shtola replied, somewhat taken aback. “That wasn't me. That was … well ...” Any explanations she had relied heavily on her listener already knowing the Echo existed. “In Sharlyan – where I come from – we call it the Echo. Perhaps they have another name for it on the steppe …?”

  
Elai sat up a little straighter and put her hand to her temples. Y'shtola saw that there was a pattern of deep purple scales down her lower arms as well as on her face.

  
“I hurt,” she said.

  
“It will pass in a little while.”

  
“This Echo … what does it do?”

  
“Master Louisoix – one of my teachers – would tell you that it has the power to transcend words, to transcend time and transcend space. And that's the least technical explanation I've ever heard him offer.”

  
Elai narrowed her eyes. “And what does that mean?”

  
Y'shtola smiled and switched to archaic Sharlyan, a language that had fallen out of use – except in a few erudite treatises – many hundreds of years before. “How long have you been able to speak in the tongue of my long-dead forefathers, Elai?”

  
“I don't understand?” Elai said, in the same language. Her eyes widened. “How is that … I don't …?”

  
“Forgive me,” Y'shtola replied. “I didn't mean to tease, but that's the easiest way to demonstrate the simplest and most obvious aspect of the Echo. You can read, speak and understand any language now, even long dead ones. The other parts we're only just beginning to understand, although I believe you've already experienced another of them. The power to see other people's memories, almost as if you're there yourself?”

  
“That … was someone's memory?” Elai asked. “Was it yours?”

  
“What did you see?”

  
“There was a ship. A big one, bigger than the Orchid, and it was pitching up and down in a stormy sea. There were people huddled in the hold, and they all looked frightened. It … frightened me too, a little, to see how scared they were. They thought they were going to die.” She frowned. “Then … then there was shouting up on deck, and I followed and … it was you! You were there! There were some kind of creatures attacking the ship, like floating jellyfish ...”

  
“Aureliae,” Y'shtola said slowly.

  
“You threw me a bow and told me to help. I started shooting arrows as fast as I could, but more and more kept coming. But you … you healed me and we carried on fighting. And then, suddenly, it was very quiet, as if everything had stopped to snatch a breath. Just like … one … two … three. And a huge serpent creature leapt from under the water and over the ship; it was so long, bigger even than the ship was, and it jumped so high, as if it could fly. It was … it was beautiful, truly. But then it dived back under the sea, and a great wave came like a wall of water, and I knew we were going to die.”

  
“Leviathan,” Y'shtola whispered. “You were remembering Leviathan.”

  
“It was more than remembering,” Elai insisted. “I was there; I wasn't just watching, I helped you fight against the jellyfish creatures. I shot arrows into them.”

  
There was still a great deal concerning the Echo that they were still unravelling. Many of the other Masters at the Studium belittled Louisoix's interest in it, dismissed it as an eccentricity. At best the phenomenon was a physiological curiosity; at worst, the delusion of an irreparably damaged psyche. But Louisoix was convinced it was demonstrably real; that its manifestation was no accident or coincidence; and that the abilities it bestowed were far more powerful than was currently acknowledged.

  
Y'shtola frowned and tapped her chin thoughtfully with one finger. She stood up abruptly.

  
“I need to talk to Louisoix about this,” she said. “Stay in Limsa, please. I don't want to have to scour the countryside for you when I return.”

  
************

  
Elai let out a huff of breath as the silver-haired Miqo'te strode off, and she glowered at the back of the woman's head. Elai wasn't a child, to be lectured on what to do, or a pet dog to be told to stay, as though she had no mind of her own. If she hadn't been so tired after a night fleeing the yellow-coated guards, fighting off thugs and rapists, and then trailing Brin over the roof-tops and back alleys of Limsa, she would have leapt up and … well … perhaps it was unwise to rush heedlessly out into the countryside but …

  
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her grandmother would have clicked her tongue and told Elai she was sulking; her mother would handed her a stack of uncured skins and advised her to do some work; her sister, Rael, would have led her to sit on one of the rocky ledges overlooking the valley where their clan lived, and she would have un-braided Elai’s hair and threaded it with new beads and feathers and then braided it back up again.

  
Elai scowled at her own hands, lying loosely in her lap. A little homesickness was nothing to be surprised at, especially when she was tired. And it didn’t mean that leaving had been a mistake. It was bound to take some time to get used to new people and new lands.

  
She startled as someone placed a large, steaming cup of milky coffee on the table in front of her and looked up to see Brin. He was frowning.

  
“Where’s Y’shtola?” he said.

  
“The Miqo’te? She rushed off.” Elai bit her lip to prevent complaints about Y’shtola’s bossiness escaping. “Said she needed to talk to someone.”

  
Brin sat down. “Did she say who? Or why?”

  
“She said a name, but it was strange-sounding. As to why, it was because of the huge serpent I saw when I passed out, I think.”

  
Brin blinked. “Huge serpent?”

  
“Yes.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Do not ask me questions, I don’t understand any of this. Your friend said it was the Echo. She spoke words in a tongue I didn’t know, and yet I did. Then she asked me about the ship and the storm and the serpent. Then she jumped up and said she needed to speak to this Lew-iss-wah …”

  
“Louisoix?”

  
Elai scowled. “That is what I said.”

  
“Yes. Right. Well … if she’s gone to find Master Louisoix, she’ll be gone for a while so …”

  
“She told me not to leave Limsa.” There was definitely an edge to that, despite her efforts to sound neutral, and she scowled again. “I am not a child, to be told what I must not do.”

  
Brin grinned. “’Shtola is just bossy, you’ll get used to it. And there’s plenty for us to be doing while we wait for her. I bet you’re hungry; I’ll go get us some breakfast, and then I’ll take you along to the adventurers’ guild and introduce you to Baderon. Once you’ve signed up with the guild, you can …”

  
“You take a great deal for granted,” Elai replied coolly. She knew that it would be sensible to accept his offers of assistance – it hardly committed her to anything, after all – but she still bridled at his assumption – and Y’shtola’s assumption – that she would go along with whatever they said without demur.

  
To her surprise, Brin blushed. It made him look a deal younger than she’d supposed. Probably not much older than her.

  
“How old are you?” she asked curiously.

  
His blush deepened. “Why?”

  
“I find it hard to tell. I don’t know many people who aren’t Xaela.”

  
“Nineteen summers,” he replied. “You?”

  
“Seventeen.”

  
“Same age I was when I left home,” he said.

  
“Where are you from?”

  
“Gridania. Small farm in the East Shroud. A little too close to the border with Ala Mhigo for my parents’ comfort; it’s not pleasant having the Garleans glowering at you from a few malms away. They upped sticks and moved into the city when I was fifteen – lost everything, pretty much, since no one was going to buy a farm that was like to become a war zone – and I made up my mind there and then that I was going to learn how to fight and go back and show the Garleans what-for.” He blushed again. “I guess that sounds foolish, huh?”

  
Elai shook her head. “No. It sounds purposeful. The Garleans will swallow the world if they can.”

  
“You hate them too?”

  
“Not hate,” she said slowly, thinking about it. “I’ve never met a Garlean to be able to feel so strongly about them. There were a few of their soldiers in Kugane when I passed through, but they were conscripts, not Garleans. Still, if their legions threatened my home, I would fight them fiercely, until they died or I did. They avoid the steppe though; perhaps they think it is all grass and goats.” She grinned briefly. “In fairness, it mostly is. And the clans are always fighting amongst themselves. But if the Garleans came, the clans would unite under the Khagan and drive them out again, by Azim’s Grace.”

  
“I’d fight beside you,” Brin declared, and he sounded both fierce and fervent.

  
She let herself smile at him for the first time. “Perhaps we should have breakfast first though, hmmm?”

  
********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done my best to keep this lore-accurate, although there is probably some head-canon based interpretation of the Echo in here. The story will eventually start to diverge from the story in-game (depends how fast I write - not very, currently, but I'm hoping this will pick up speed) but at the moment it pretty much follows what we all know.
> 
> Please comment, make suggestions, offer advice. Validation is everything!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place several years after Chapter One, around the time Minfilia Warde discovers that she has the Echo, meets Archon Louisoix, and decides to form the Path of the Twelve. Amongst the folk that she's looking to recruit to the cause are Brin Greenwood and his friends. But maybe not everyone is as fond of the Sharlyans as Brin seems to be?

Chapter II

  
Brin always looked forward to coming back to the house in Gridania. It was old and dark and needed a great deal of work, but it felt like coming home. The kitchen was always full of crafting paraphernalia and weapons that wanted mending, and he had been relegated to the attic bedroom at the top of the creaky stairs – because he was there the least of the four of them – but it was the one place where he felt comfortable setting aside his armour.

  
Elai was in the kitchen. She had a large pot on the stove that smelled of fish, but not in a good way, and a pile of dried animal gut on the table she was twisting into twine. She looked up when he came in.

  
“You're back then,” she said.

  
He grinned. “That's not very welcoming. Didn't you miss me? How are things going?” He slid his pack down on to the long, battered, kitchen table. “Did you hear the news from Limsa? The Company of Heroes killed Titan! So I was talking to Thancred, and I said that we need a name. The four of us, I mean. Me, you, Temujin and Viola. I had this idea to call us Hydaelyn's Children. What do you think? … Elai? … Elai, are you listening to me?”

  
“I'm stringing bows,” Elai replied. She enunciated each word very slowly, as if she suspected he might not understand otherwise. “Ten recurved bows made out of oak. Have you ever tried stringing a recurved bow, Brin?”

  
“I'm not an archer,” he replied cautiously. He had the distinct impression this was a trick question. “Why do you need ten bows anyway?”

  
Elai turned around from the stove where she was stirring the foul-smelling fishy mess, and scowled. He widened his eyes and tried giving her a hopeful smile, uncertain what he’d said to annoy her but more than happy to take it back if it would help.

  
“They're not my bows,” she said, still speaking slowly and carefully, as if she were talking to a very young child. “They're for delivery to Camp Nine Ivies. While you've been off entertaining the Archons and hobnobbing with city officials, the rest of us have been picking up the slack and keeping work going. The leves don't just do themselves, you know.”

  
Brin blinked. “I work. I mean … it’s not like I’m sat on my arse doing nothing, El.”

  
She shrugged. “When the Archons start paying you in coin instead of compliments, then you'll have a counter-argument. As it is, Viola's making excuses yet again to her grandmother about why we only have half this moon's rent, and Temujin's working night-times at the Canopy to keep us fed.”

  
“You're exaggerating ...” He hoped she was exaggerating. Truth be told, he hadn’t really considered who was paying the food bills and the rent. It had seemed like a grand idea, gathering the four of them together – all Echo-users, all protégés of the Archons – but he'd been so busy making ambitious plans, he hadn't considered the practicalities. He’d planned to recruit more people, build a name for themselves, become Louisoix's right arm. But his Da had always told him he spent too much time with his head in the clouds, and it had always rankled. At twenty-four he wasn’t a kid any more, but he suddenly felt like one again, rebuked for dreaming instead of working. “You make it sound like you think I’m useless …”

  
Elai folded her arms. “I don’t think you’re useless. I know you’re not. And yes, okay, I may have exaggerated about Temujin slaving away at the Canopy. He’s actually teaching Miounne some eastern recipes. But he is getting paid for it. And no one’s paying you, Brin.”

  
“As far as you know,” he muttered.

  
“Are you saying the Archons are paying you?”

  
“No but …” He took out his coin purse and upended it on the table. The small pile of gil didn’t look quite as impressive as he’d hoped. “I mean, I am doing stuff. Helping people out. And they do pay me. Sometimes.”

  
Elai looked down at the gold and sighed. “You’re making me feel like your mother. Keep your coin, damn it. But we can’t go on like this. Viola's grandmother isn't going to fling us out into the cold and rain; in fact I think she's quite pleased to have someone keeping an eye on the place. But it makes Viola uncomfortable, having to make excuses, and this place eats money, with all the stuff that needs doing .” She pulled out a stool and sat down at the table. “I’m working my arse off keeping the coin coming in and fixing all the broken bits and pieces. So is Temujin. Viola’s picking up every single job they have at the guild and doing work on the side for the Wood Wailers. She’ll fall asleep on patrol one of these nights and get ambushed by a poacher.”

  
“Okay, okay. I get it.” He felt like an idiot – exactly how he used to feel when his father told him off for daydreaming instead of chasing crows off the newly planted seeds – and he didn’t like it. “You should have said something sooner.”

  
“I didn’t want to piss on your bonfire,” she said.

  
He managed a smile at that, although it felt like more of a grimace. “I’m doing this for all of us, you know.”

  
“I know.”

  
“No, I mean really. I am. I want us to be … to be …”

  
“The Company of Heroes?”

  
He blushed.

  
“Maybe,” he replied. “A little. I mean … there’s no reason why we couldn’t. Is there?”

  
She looked at him for a second or two, frowning slightly, and then she shrugged again. “I suppose there isn’t. But starting with a big house in Gridania is a little backwards. Doesn’t the big house come with the fame and glory at the end?”

  
“It’s good to have our own place,” he insisted. “It helps us bond with each other – that’s really important – and we need somewhere we can be ourselves and relax.”

  
Elai snorted. “Relax? Are you joking? My heart sinks every time I walk through the door and think of everything that still needs doing.”

  
“Right, yes. I get it,” he said. “I haven’t been pulling my weight. But I want to keep the house. Once we start killing primals …”

  
“Killing primals?” She stared at him. “What in the Seven Hells …? Where did that come from?”

  
“It’s what the Company of Heroes does …”

  
“They killed Titan. Once. And how many of them didn’t survive?” She began shaking her head. “How many of them were there in the first place? A lot more than four, I’ll warrant.”

  
“But none of them have the Echo.”

  
“As far as you know. And how is the Echo supposed to help, exactly? I doubt that Titan will be so impressed by our ability to speak Kobold, he’ll apologise and decide to go bother the Garleans instead.”

  
“Thancred says …”

  
Elai threw her hands in the air and stood up. “I might have known this was down to the Archons! When are you going to realise the truth, Brin? They’re just going to keep throwing you at shit until some of it sticks, and you die. And then they’ll find another idiot to take your place.”

  
He didn’t answer her straight away, fighting to keep his grasp on his own temper. “That’s unfair.”

  
“How? How is it unfair?”

  
“Most of them are scholars, not fighters …”

  
She snorted. “Thancred’s nearly as handy with his daggers as I am. Y’shtola’s a conjurer. Papalymo’s a thaumaturge. All three of them can handle themselves in a fight.”

  
“They don’t have the Echo.”

  
“So they say.”

  
He stared at her. “Now that’s definitely unfair. Why would they lie?”

  
“Why wouldn’t they? What do we know about them, after all? They turn up and announce that they’re here to save us from the Garleans, and then what do they do? Fuck all, that’s what. And their wonderful, heroic leader never even shows his face. For all we know he could be a … a … behemoth!”

  
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  
“Yes. Okay. I know Louisoix probably isn’t a behemoth. But that doesn’t mean he’s to be trusted.” She stopped, and he saw her take a breath. When she spoke again, she tried to make her voice sound more measured. “If he’s so marvellous, why haven’t we met him? Why is he hiding in the shadows?”

  
“He’s not hiding,” Brin protested. “Sharlyan politics …”

  
“You always have an excuse, don’t you?”

  
“That’s not fair.”

  
“And nothing I say is ever fair either, right? Well, count me out. When you said you were going to start pulling your weight, I thought you meant it.”

  
“I do mean it!”

  
She shook her head. “No. You don’t. You’ll quite happily lead all of us to our deaths underneath Mount O'Ghomoro just because Thancred says so.”

  
“That’s not …”

  
“Fair? Damn fucking right, it’s not fair.”

  
He folded his arms. “There’s absolutely no point talking to you when you’re like this.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Irrational. Crazy. Mad.”

  
“Well, thanks a lot,” she hissed at him. “Irrational, am I? Crazy, am I?”

  
“Elai …”

  
“Fuck off, Brin.”

  
************

  
She strode through the overgrown garden, muttering curses half under her breath and wiping away angry tears as she did so. She came to a halt when she reached the lakeside and looked around for something to throw; something large and heavy; something to make a splash they would hear in Ul’dah.

  
Truth was, Elai was almost as angry at herself as at Brin; for losing her temper and flinging insults at the Archons. She’d forfeited the argument as soon as she raised her voice. Brin would dismiss it as some irrational prejudice on her part; he knew she didn’t trust any of the Sharlyans. Seven Hells, everyone and his pet coeurl knew she didn’t trust the Sharlyans.

  
“Goats were a lot swiving easier to deal with,” she muttered.

  
She sat down on the half-rotted jetty at the bottom of the garden and looked out over the water. The day had begun - as it so often did in the Shroud - with heavy rain, then the skies had cleared before noon and now there was sunshine. Watery, washed-out sunshine, but sunshine just the same. The planks she sat on were still damp, but she ignored that; it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to matter. Of course if they gave way beneath her – always a possibility – it would be a different tale. Temujin had started to re-civilise the garden, planting herbs and medicinal plants near the house and digging up a plot for vegetables, but he hadn’t done any work on the jetty. Really it would make more sense for Elai to do it since she was the carpenter. And the only one who fished in the lake. Carpentry she enjoyed; fishing not so much, but she needed the scales and fish guts for materials. And sometimes she bagged a big trout or even a salmon that Temujin could cook.

  
As if thinking about him conjured him out of the aether, Temujin himself came out of the kitchen door into the garden. He looked straight in the direction of the water, and she knew he was looking for her. No doubt Brin had told him about the argument.  
Elai turned away and hunched her shoulders.

  
Temujin stopped when he reached the jetty.

  
“Pretending I’m not here won’t make me vanish,” he said.

  
“Saves me from having to look at you though,” Elai replied.

  
“You’re just jealous that my horns are bigger than yours.”

  
Her mouth twitched, the edges of a smile pulling at it, but she kept her back firmly towards the other Au Ra. “Go away, Temujin.”

  
“Brin told me that you had a fight.”

  
“We didn’t have a fight. I shouted at him, and he told me I was crazy and mad. That’s not a fight. A fight involves broken noses and blood on the carpets.”

  
“He’s upset.”

  
“Good.”

  
“You know you don’t mean that,” Temujin said.

  
It often annoyed her, the way he always seemed to think he understood her. He thought he understood Viola too, but Viola didn’t mind. Viola saw his broad shoulders and his generous smile and his gentle hands, and she forgave him. But Elai saw a Raen Au Ra, one of her kind who was not of her clan, an adversary. Most of the time she was able to focus on the truth, that she and Temujin were on the same side; even –sometimes – that he was her friend; but then he would irritate her, and she would want to hiss at him.

  
“Orhoj!” she muttered, not caring if he heard her or not. “Snake!”

  
The jetty dipped under his weight, and she turned her head slightly to check what he was doing. He’d settled down at the other end, his back to her. All she could see was his high collared coat, his glossy black hair like raven feathers, and the ivory of his horns. They were like inversions of each other – the two of them - each pale where the other was dark and vice versa.

  
“I can hear you grinding your teeth,” Temujin said.

  
“I swear you are the most annoying man …”

  
He tilted his head sideways slightly so that he could smirk at her. “I thought that was Louisoix Leveilleur. Or Thancred Waters.”

  
“I swear you are the third most annoying man …”

  
He began to laugh. And Temujin had a laugh that was hard to resist. Elai didn’t waste too many moments trying. She let her smile escape and stood up, moving back down the jetty to sit next to him.

  
“I thought you came to bawl me out,” she said.

  
“Well, I agree with some of your sentiments,” he replied. “If not your methods. Louisoix sees us all as tools, even Thancred and Y’shtola. But I don’t think he’ll squander us unnecessarily. And I doubt you’ll ever convince Brin that we’re being used; Brin believes, heart and soul, in Louisoix’s cause. You certainly won’t convince him by shouting at him; that just makes him think you’re being irrational.”

  
“It’s not irrational,” she protested. “Why would I trust a faceless man I’ve never met? He’s not even from Eorzea, none of them are. Why do they care if the Garleans swallow up the city states?”

  
Temujin shrugged. “I suppose they’ll swallow Sharlyan eventually too, if no one stands up to them. The Ishgardians are too busy fighting their endless war with the dragons to care about Garlemald, while the Eorzeans are preoccupied with battling the beastmen and their primals. Easy pickings all round. I believe Louisoix’s intentions are good. The only question that truly needs answering is whether I’m prepared to risk my life to further them for him.”

  
“And are you?” Elai asked.

  
“Not directly, no,” he said. “But I am prepared to risk my life to make Viola happy. And Viola wants to be a hero from song and legend.” He smiled, and Elai wasn’t certain if it was rueful or affectionate. “If Brin asks her to go and fight a primal or three, she’ll agree. So I’ll go with her and do my damnedest to keep the pair of them alive.” His smile broadened.. “So all that matters here is, what do you want, Elai? And does any part of what you want fit in with the Archons and their plans?”

  
“I want to keep Brin from being killed in pursuit of some idiocy of their devising,” she replied immediately.

  
“There you go then,” Temujin said. “You’ll never convince Brin that it’s idiocy. Just as I’ll never convince Viola that there’s more to life than being a hero. Instead of arguing with him, you’d do better to devote your energies to working out how we can best beat this primal.”

  
“And the next one,” Elai said with a sigh.

  
Temujin grinned. “Aye. And the one after that. And that. And that.”

  
************

  
Thancred usually relied upon his charm and his handsome face to inveigle people – mostly women - into doing what he wanted. Or at least that was the impression he gave. Folk dismissed him as a typical adventurer; roguish, womanising, his mind always on the next coin purse and the next tumble between the sheets. In many situations that served him well; no one considered him a threat or minded their tongues in his presence, and he was able to pick up plenty of gossip and intrigue.

  
When it came to Brin Greenwood’s household, however, his reputation worked to his disadvantage. It was the woman-folk there he needed to win over, and he was certain this was a struggle he was endlessly destined to lose. Viola dismissed him as a pretty face and refused to take him seriously; Elai simply didn’t trust him at all. Which wasn’t a problem in itself, for sure, but now Louisoix had requested that he introduce them to Ascilia – gods-damn-it, Minfilia, he was bound to slip up and get that wrong – and he had a bad feeling about the whole business.

  
“Why me?” he protested. “Elai doesn’t like me.”

  
Louisoix smiled at him. “But Minfilia does, and she is my concern at present. If young Elai wishes to walk her own path, such is her choice. No one should be constrained to join with us against their will; that’s a deed t’would make us as bad as the Garleans.”

  
And that was that, as far as Master Louisoix was concerned.

  
Thancred sighed and straightened his collar for the fifteenth time, staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know why he was fussing over his appearance so much. Brin wouldn’t notice what he looked like. Temujin might notice – the male Au Ra was always well dressed – but it wouldn’t influence him. And the women wouldn’t care if he had a halo or cloven hooves; they’d already made up their minds about him. Frankly Minfilia stood a better chance of persuading them to ally with her if Thancred didn’t show up at all.

  
He strode across the room and tapped on the closed door.

  
“I’m dressed,” Minfilia said. “Come in, please. It’s getting late. We should be going.”

  
He opened the door. She was standing in front of her own mirror, smoothing down her dress as she turned her head this way and that. She had her long, fair hair up in a coiled braid, and her eyes and lips were artfully coloured; her adoptive mother, F’lhaminn, was exceeding skilled at making the most of her appearance, and she had taught Minfilia well.

  
“You look lovely,” Thancred said. “I like that dress.”

  
“You don’t think the pink is … too pink?”

  
“The pink is perfect. Wear only pink from now on.”

  
She raised her eyebrows. “Hardly suitable for when I’m working. Ink stains and so on.”

  
“Then we’ll have to hire you a secretary,” he replied, bowing with a flourish.

  
“Hmmm,” she said. “You’re only generally this overblown when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous? I thought this Brin was a friend of yours.”

  
Thancred nodded. “He is. But his women-folk are dragons. Literally as well as metaphorically, in Elai’s case. And we have to dine with them and be polite and reasonable, not to mention convincing them to join your Path of the Twelve. It’s like to be a fraught evening.”

  
“The Au Ra aren’t dragons,” Minfilia chided. “I’m not surprised she’s taken against you if that’s the kind of thing you say.”

  
Thancred shook his head. “It was a joke, my sweet.”

  
“Not a funny one.”

  
“Right. Yes. I’ll try and behave myself, shall I?”

  
“I expect that would be helpful,” she replied serenely.

  
He followed her downstairs to the main room at the Carline Canopy, where Mother Miounne showed them to the private dining room they’d reserved. Over the past six or so years, Thancred and the other Archons had worked hard to build up relationships with the adventurers’ guilds in all three city states. It was a boon to have folk like Miounne on their side; she heard all the gossip in the Shroud sooner or later, and she was also able to point out likely Echo-blessed adventurers to Papalymo. She was not averse to a little flirtation with Thancred either, and flirtation always lightened his mood.

  
“And can Mother get you and your young lady a drink while you wait for your friends?” she asked. “I’ll send one of the girls in with tonight’s menu as well. Chef informs me that the roast trout’s particularly good this evening.”

  
“That sounds delicious,” Minfilia said. “A jug of ale for myself and Thancred please. And if you could show our guests through when they arrive? I’ll be settling our account at the end of the evening so please bring them whatever they require.”

  
Miounne looked at Minfilia for a second or two, and Thancred could see her reassessing the situation. Minfilia herself waited placidly for the other woman’s assent, as if she never doubted for a moment she’d receive it. But Thancred knew very well that her composure was hard won. Something else he knew she’d learned from F’lhaminn, how to seem confident and self-assured even if she was far from feeling so.

  
“Of course, my lady,” Miounne replied with a smile. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll return right away with the ale.”

  
“Impressive,” Thancred said after the innkeep left the room.

  
Minfilia sat down at the table, smoothing out her skirt again. He was beginning to suspect it was something of a nervous tic.

  
“Not hardly,” she replied. “If I can’t impress Miounne, I doubt I’ll stand much chance with your dragon lady.”

  
He grinned.

  
“On the contrary,” he told her. “Elai can be intimidating, but Miounne is frankly terrifying. Winning her over is much more of a challenge. Your mother will be very proud of you.”

************

  
Brin was nervous about their evening arrangements.

  
After his altercation with Elai, he’d been tempted to send word to Thancred that none of them would be attending, but then Elai had come and apologised. He’d seized the moment as a good one to push matters forward and told her about Thancred’s dinner invitation; to his great shock, she nodded and said that she would go. Even when he’d said that Thancred wanted to discuss the primals, she hadn’t baulked, and he was far too afraid of her answer to ask why she’d changed her mind. She didn’t look like someone who was plotting – if anything she looked resigned, and years of card games against her had taught him that she was terrible at hiding her feelings – but it was so unlike her not to be opposed to anything involving the Archons, it made him anxious.

  
He walked with Temujin as they made their way through the city towards the Carline Canopy, setting a faster pace than the two women who fell back a little behind them.

  
“Is Elai up to something?” he asked in a low voice, deciding that a direct question was his only option.

  
Temujin continued walking, although he did glance at Brin for a second.

  
“What makes you ask that?” the Raen said eventually.

  
“Because she’s not behaving in a very Elai-like fashion.”

  
“Have you questioned her as to why?”

  
“No.”

  
“Because …?”

  
Brin glanced over his shoulder, making sure the other two weren’t close enough to hear. “Because I was scared of the answer, I think.”

  
“Ah. Well then …”

  
He waited, but Temujin didn’t say anything more, merely raising his eyebrows and smiling when Brin frowned at him.

  
“I believe we’ve arrived,” the Raen said. “Did I hear you say Thancred had requested a private dining room?”

  
Brin gritted his teeth. “Aye.”

  
“Interesting,”

  
“It’s probably just as well.”

  
Temujin grinned. He turned as the other two reached them, bowed, and offered his arm to Viola. “Shall we, my lady?”

  
She dropped into a full, formal courtesy in reply, raising her head and offering him a provocative smile as she held out her hand. They made a striking couple, Viola and Temujin. Viola was a Duskwight Elezen, from a very wealthy and eminent Gridanian family. They’d gained their eminence – despite their Duskwight origins - from a combination of generosity in the right places and – according to Elai – the political acumen of their matriarchs. That was like to end with Viola however; she was not in the least interested in fostering the family fortunes. Her elder sister had married a minor Coerthan nobleman, meaning that most of their trade interests would probably pass to Ishgard when their grandmother died.

  
Like Temujin, Viola was tall, dark-skinned and dark-haired, although her hair was streaked in places with silver. Brin suspected artifice rather than age though, in respect of this; the silver highlighted the elaborate corn-row plaits that she wore. Tonight she was beautifully dressed in a silk gown of the Ishgardian style, violet to match her name and her eyes. Temujin was equally formal in a long fitted coat with a high collar. In contrast, Brin felt underdressed, although he’d changed from his armour into his one set of everyday clothing. Elai was wearing a long robe of steppe design – her daggers were plainly visible, making her seem both fearsome and exotic – but he doubted she gave a second thought to her appearance.

  
“Well,” he said heavily, feeling weighed down suddenly with both expectation and apprehension. “Shall we?”

  
Viola’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s.”

  
Elai and Temujin said nothing, but they followed him through the doorway into the Canopy. The main room was busy, as always; not a free table anywhere. Brin caught the eye of one of the staff who brought their drinks and then led them down a corridor and into a side room.

  
“Very exclusive,” Elai muttered, but she gave him a weak smile when he looked at her.

  
Thancred stood up as they entered.

  
“Good evening, friends,” he said, bowing with a flourish. “And what a pleasant evening it is ...”

  
“Cut the shit, Thancred,” Viola interrupted. “Who’s your lady-friend?”

  
The woman seated at the head of the table also stood up and inclined her head in welcome. She was a fair-haired Highlander, very young and very pretty, dressed in a formal gown that matched Viola’s for elegance. Brin waited in some trepidation for her to speak; neither youth, nor prettiness, nor even elegance were likely to impress any of his companions.

  
“Good evening,” she said, and her voice was soft and lilting. “My name is Minfilia Warde. Thank you for joining us.”

  
Viola pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Then she swung her legs around, put her feet up on the table and let her voluminous skirts fall back to mid-thigh. “Evenin’, Minfilia. I’m Viola.”

  
Brin saw Minfilia’s eyes widen, just slightly, and sighed to himself. Since Viola was perfectly capable of behaving with propriety when necessary, he knew she was being provocative on purpose. He glanced over at Thancred, but the other man shook his head slightly, as if warning him not to intervene.

  
“A pleasure to meet you, Viola.” Minfilia replied. “I believe my foster mother is acquainted with your grandmother, Lady Perdue?”

  
Temujin grinned and stepped forward. “Lady Minfilia. I’m Temujin. At your service.”

  
Viola scowled and took her feet off the table.

  
“Just Minfilia, please,” Minfilia said, smiling. “And you two must be Brin and Elai. Thank you so much for joining us at such short notice. Thancred, would you mind letting Mother Miounne know that we’re ready to order our food? Once we’ve been served, then we can begin to discuss why we’re here tonight.” She looked around the table at all of them. “But first I think a toast is in order? To mutually beneficial agreements perhaps?”

  
She lifted up her flagon of ale with a very encouraging smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been a while coming - I am slow and also overly fond of rewrites!


End file.
